Poison Pen
by Write Here2
Summary: A triple homicide, a robbery, and a quiet night in New York. But why is Mac behaving strangely?  Reposted due to rewrite of the first chapter
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER - If I owned them, I'd have a reaaaallllyyyy nice house, car, computer, wardrobe… yeah, let's assume I don't!

A/N - My sincerest apologies to those of you who were so kind as to review my story. In the end, I got so annoyed with it, I had to rewrite the first chapter. Hope you like this version better…

**Mac leant back in his chair. He watched the world go by outside. New York could be very beautiful at night. His heart ached for a moment with a sadness he had never quite managed to lock away. **

"**Mac?"**

**At first he didn't respond, but when Stella called his name for a second time, Mac spun his chair slowly round. He studied her carefully. Her bluff was getting better. He almost couldn't tell that she was worried. **

"**You were in a world of your own there. Anything the matter?" Stella asked casually. She leant against the chair opposite, hooking her thumb through a belt loop on her jeans.**

**Mac smiled briefly. "No. What's up?"**

**Her eyebrows rose slowly in disbelief. "You're supposed to be in the break room. Shift started ten minutes ago."**

**He checked his watch and muttered something unrepeatable under his breath. Stella was being generous - it was more like fifteen minutes. He couldn't remember the last time he had been this late giving out assignments. He gathered up a few files, and walked briskly to the door of his office. Stella tried not to laugh as she held out a coffee for him. That got her a genuine smile.**

"**Thanks Stella."**

"**What would you do without me?" she joked, following him to the break room.**

**A scene of devastation greeted them. With the boss late, Sheldon and Danny had fallen into a friendly, but animated argument over sports. Lindsey was attempting to mediate. It didn't look like she was being very successful as the two men debated the various merits of the Mets' newest pitcher. Mac and Stella stood at the doorway for a full three minutes before anybody noticed that they were there.**

"**No way he's a serious replacement, I'm telling you-" Danny argued loudly.**

**Lindsey cut in. "Guys…"**

"**Maybe not right now, but to be there at such a young age?" **

"**Guys!" Lindsey snapped, finally getting their attention. She nodded towards the door.**

"**Oh - boss - hi." Danny said sheepishly.**

"**Danny, you've got a robbery on the Upper West Side. A banker and his wife came home from their vacation to a trashed split-level apartment."**

"**Split-level apartment on the Upper West Side? I'm in the wrong job." Stella grumbled. She took a seat on the threadbare sofa.**

"**Lindsey, we've got a triple DB in a coffee shop." Mac handed her a piece of paper with the basics on it. He turned to Sheldon and Stella.**

**Neither of them would be picking up new cases. Hawkes was required in court, and Stella had a mountain of paperwork to catch up on. It was hardly her favourite part of the job, but it meant that the city was quiet for once. A minor miracle.**

* * *

**Lindsey watched her boss with interest. He seemed edgy today, like he'd been drinking too much coffee. She had heard stories about him through the office grapevine. There had been times when he would have slept at the office, had Stella not made him leave. She hoped this wasn't his way of slipping back into those habits. Mac had been good to Lindsey, and she hated to think of him that way.**

**Still, he was the consummate professional, she had to admit. They had arrived at the scene and every officer there had greeted him with at least respect. She felt as though she had not quite earned that yet. Not that they weren't respectful. Lindsey shook her head free of distracting thoughts, and turned her attention back to the blood spots she was inspecting.**

"**What do you think?"**

**Mac's voice made her jump. He chuckled gently. Lindsey could feel her cheeks flushing red with embarrassment.**

"**Uh-" she stood up, and looked around. "The killer came in through the front door. My guess is they knew him."**

"**Could have been a salesman, or a delivery, but I think you're probably right.**

**Lindsey walked round a pool of blood, and crouched down. She leant to the side. "Killer surprises the wife by grabbing the husband and stabbing him in the neck." There was high-velocity blood spatter everywhere. The husband's carotid artery had been hit. "The wife runs to him. Killer attacks her, stabbing her -" Lindsey thought back to the body, which had been moved already. "-a lot."**

**The corners of Mac's mouth twitched. "A lot, huh?" He grew serious. "I think you've got it there. The husband had to go first. He's a big guy, maybe two hundred pounds or more, and tall."**

"**Our killer had to be tall too."**

"**Probably."**

**Mac looked at the room, at the blood spatter. It covered almost every visible surface - the customer chairs, the carpet, walls, the window and the counter. It was a bloodbath. He frowned, trying to puzzle out the case.**

"**Killer probably brought a change of clothes too." Lindsey mused. "No way someone walks out of here without blood on them unless they have a change of clothes."**

**They walked it through again, and came to the same conclusion. The owner of the shop next door, a musical instrument supplier, had let himself in. The Myersons owed him some money - just a hundred dollars or so - and he had come to ask if they had it for him. The guy was maybe five foot three, and about a hundred and thirty pounds. He had walked right into Mr Myerson's body, and frozen. According to the officer in charge of the scene, he had been hysterical.**

"**What do you think, Mac?" Lindsey asked, disturbing the eerie silence.**

**He turned on his heel, heading to the back room. "I don't know yet." he snapped over his shoulder.**

**Taken aback, Lindsey didn't move for a moment. She watched her boss storm off. He really was on edge, although he had been controlling it pretty well.**

"**What's up with him?"**

**She jumped again, and scowled furiously at Flack. **

"**Jerk!"**

**He grinned. "Calm down, Monroe. Seriously, what's wrong with him?"**

**Lindsey sobered up. "I don't know. He's been acting weird for a couple of days."**

"**Maybe it'll pass." the detective offered. "Mac's a reasonable guy, y'know."**

"**I know. I'm - worried, I guess."**

**Flack shrugged and walked away. Under his breath, so the female CSI could not hear it, he whispered, _"__Me too, Monroe__…"_**


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER - If I owned them, I'd have a reaaaallllyyyy nice house, car, computer, wardrobe… yeah, let's assume I don't!

A/N - Phew. This fic-writing business is tricky, isn't it?

* * *

Sheldon sat at the table in the break room, picking absentmindedly at a crumpled piece of foil. He looked up at Stella. They had agreed that too much paperwork and not enough lunch made for poor CSIs. His homemade cheese salad sandwich seemed pretty inadequate now though, compared to the Subway sandwich Stella had picked up on her way to work. Seeing his doleful look, Stella grinned. She tore her sandwich in half, and slid one half across to Sheldon.

"Ah, I can't accept that." he said, ready to give it back.

"Hawkes, eat the damned sandwich. Better for my waistline, better for your stomach. What is that thing you made, anyway?" she teased.

"An experiment I am not gonna repeat."

They laughed, taking bites of Stella's meatball sandwich. It was good to enjoy one of these infrequent moments away from work. Stella had forgotten how much she enjoyed her colleagues' company. She watched with concern as a deep frown appeared on Sheldon's face.

"Anything the matter?"

He sighed heavily. "I'm not sure I'm comfortable with this conversation, but - is Mac OK?"

"Sure. Why?"

"It's just -" Sheldon leant forward across the table "- he's been acting a little weird lately. Kind of bad-tempered, and he's been staying in the lab more."

"He's in the field today." Stella said.

Sheldon's expression made it clear that he was not convinced. In fact, since their conversation in Mac's office earlier that day, Stella had become concerned herself.

Sighing, Stella put down her sandwich. "I don't know. He won't tell me."

"You asked?" Sheldon said, surprised.

"Not directly. I'll speak to him later." Stella promised. "I'm sure its nothing."

They looked at each other a few moments longer. It was awkward, discussing their boss, especially since Stella was a friend of his. Sheldon picked up his own sandwich, and took a large bite. They were both aware of how Mac valued his privacy - and that he did not react like this without reason.

* * *

Stella eventually managed to corner him in his office. Everyone else had left hours ago, at the official end of the shift. He looked tired, she noted - but then he often looked tired. She tried to remember the last time he had taken a holiday, and failed. Although, Stella admitted to herself, she hadn't taken a break in some time either.

Mac didn't notice Stella walking into his office, or sitting down in the chair opposite him. She coughed loudly. Mac jumped, nearly spilling coffee on the stack of files in front of him. He raised an irritated eyebrow.

"You're making a habit of sneaking up on me today."

"No." Stella countered. "You're not paying attention today."

The senior CSI knew his friend well enough to know when she was making a dig. Resisting the urge to ignore her, Mac shuffled his papers into order, and leant back in his chair. He fixed her with an impatient look.

"What's up?"

She shrugged. "I think that's my question, don't you?"

He swung the chair away, avoiding her eyes. "I'm fine, Stella."

"You're usually better at lying than this." she said dryly.

Mac stood, and for a moment, looked like he might storm out. He changed his mind, and headed for the window. Looking out onto the city, Mac lost himself in the vista. Suddenly, Stella was by his side. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"What's wrong, Mac?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing." she repeated sarcastically. "It isn't nothing if you're this tightly wound. Tell me."

She waited while he thought it over. He really did look awful, especially close-up. The gentle lines that had crept into his features over the years had become deep. Dark bags made it look as though he had two black eyes. No wonder Hawkes' concerns had been followed by Lindsey's, Danny's, and Flack's. Silently, she berated herself for not pushing the point earlier.

Just as Stella thought she wasn't going to get anything from him, Mac pulled out three slim white envelopes from his inside jacket pocket. With his eyes focussed on the city below them, he held them out for her.

Stella took them with trembling hands. She sat down in his chair.

"I got the first one a week ago. The second, two days ago. The last one arrived this morning. It was delivered by hand, to CSI."

Carefully, Stella opened the first one. The note was on thick white paper - evidently expensive stuff. She unfolded it and began to read.

DEAR MR TAYLOR

I AM WRITING TO YOU ON A MATTER OF SOME URGENCY. I WAS ACQUAINTED WITH YOUR WIFE THROUGH WORK A YEAR OR SO BEFORE HER DEATH. UNFORTUNATELY, I WAS UNABLE TO ATTEND CLAIRE'S MEMORIAL SERVICE, THOUGH I SENT MY CONDOLENCES.

THE MATTER I WISH TO TALK WITH YOU ABOUT SHOULD BE DISCUSSED IN PERSON. THEREFORE, I WOULD LIKE TO MEET WITH YOU AT YOUR EARLIEST CONVENIENCE. AS YOU MAY HAVE GUESSED, THIS CONCERNS CLAIRE. YOU CAN REACH ME ON THE FOLLOWING NUMBER - 555-0456. PLEASE PHONE SOON.

REGARDS,

TIMOTHY BAYWATER

The second letter was much the same - requesting an meeting at Mac's earliest convenience. It was polite enough, if detached. Stella risked a glance up at her friend and boss. He was still standing at the window. She put the first two letters on his desk, and opened the third.

DT. TAYLOR

'RUDENESS IS THE WEAK MAN'S IMITATION OF STRENGTH.'

AN APPROPRIATE QUOTATION, I'M SURE YOU'LL AGREE. I FIND IT SAD THAT A MAN OF YOUR STANDING HAS RESORTED TO IGNORING ME. I AM CONFIDENT THAT MY LETTERS HAVE REACHED YOU, AND EQUALLY CONFIDENT THAT YOU STILL HAVE THEM IN YOUR POSSESSION. AFTER ALL, THEY HAVE HER NAME ON THEM, DON'T THEY?

DESPITE YOUR EFFORTS TO DISMISS ME, I STILL BELIEVE THAT WE SHOULD MEET TO DISCUSS CLAIRE. I WILL NOT BE PERSUADED OTHERWISE. THERE ARE THINGS YOU SHOULD KNOW, AND MY LETTERS WILL NOT CEASE UNTIL YOU CONTACT ME.

T.B.

Stella held the last letter tightly. She looked up at his face. Mac had steeled himself against her reaction. In his mind, he could not afford to break down. She held the letters in her outstretched hand.

"Mac - these are creepy. You really ought to show them to Flack."

He shook his head. "There's no threat in them. Just - insinuations." He bit his lip. "That's all. Insinuations."

"Mac-"

"Go home, Stella."

She felt herself getting angry, and held it back. "You need to listen to me. I know it's been… it is not wrong for you to feel this way. Flack might be able to pull some strings, check this guy out." Stella sighed. "There may not be a threat in these three letters, but what about the next one?"

Mac turned away from her. He choked back tears that suddenly threatened. She had supported him for so long, but he could not allow grief to take over again.

"Go home, Stella." he said.

She sighed, touching his arm gently as she brushed past him. Anything you need… the gesture said. Reluctantly, Stella left Mac's office. She strode down the corridors without looking back. As she stood in front of the elevator, Stella made a sudden decision, well aware that it might cost her Mac's friendship. She would call Don Flack, and give him only the barest details. If Mac wanted to play it down, it could. He might also take the sensible route. She could only hope.

A/N - Ooo… any volunteers for anti-Mac poison-pen letter writing? I could use some help, and yes, there will be more of them… And that's the only hint y'all are getting.

P.S. - Cookie for you, if you can figure out who the quotation is from. It's a real one, and everything.


	3. Chapter 3

DISCLAIMER - If I owned them, I'd have a reaaaallllyyyy nice house, car, computer, wardrobe… yeah, let's assume I don't!

A/N - I have gotten a little carried away! Three updates in very short time - having nothing to do can be very productive.

On leaving Mac's office, Stella had gone to find Flack. She had dragged him away from a pile of paperwork, to a quiet, out-of-the-way office that wasn't occupied. Flack had been faintly amused until Stella explained why she was there. She had hoped that Mac would see sense in the morning. He had been furious. So furious, in fact, that he had not screamed or shouted. It might have been easier if he had. Instead Mac had spoken to her in cold tones Stella didn't recognise. She had the horrible feeling that she might have pushed too far on this one. Mac was, after all, a very private man.

When she arrived at work the next day, Stella found herself assigned to the triple homicide with Lindsey and Sheldon in Mac's place. Everyone but here was surprised as he took on another homicide, preferring to work alone.

On the way to the scene, the other CSIs had been full of questions. To their credit, they had managed to wait until they were out of the parking lot before asking any of them. Danny, who was sitting in the back of the car with Lindsey, leant forward. His robbery case was done, after the couple's very hungover teenage son had sheepishly admitted to hosting a party in his parents' apartment. Mac had assigned him to another robbery, on the same street as the triple homicide.

"So, why is Mac pissed at you?"

Stella would have ignored him, but the others were all waiting with bated breath. "I passed on some personal information that I shouldn't have."

"Flack said he went to see Mac. That have anything to do with it?"

"Don told you?" Stella said incredulously.

Danny shook his head, explaining that he had been teasing the detective about his lack of a social life. He'd asked where Flack had been the night before. The detective had just rolled his eyes, and told his friend outright. At the time, it hadn't occurred to Danny that it could have any significance.

"So - what is up with him?" Sheldon asked anxiously.

"OK - No." Stella said. "I'm already in trouble."

"Is Mac in any kind of trouble?" Lindsey piped up. She was pretty confident that he wouldn't have done anything wrong - but there were other ways to get yourself into trouble, after all.

Stella's mind drifted back to the icy conversation she had had with Mac that morning, before the others had arrived for work. She had gone in early to speak with him.

_Stella was already sitting in a chair in his office when Mac arrived for work. He ignored her completely. The CSI hung up his coat, and sat down at his desk. The computer bleeped into life. He was refusing to disturb his routine. He was also really, really pissed at her. Stella waited until he had finished checking his emails._

"_Mac-"_

_He held up a hand to silence her. His angry eyes met her own, and Stella realised he was a hair's breadth from really yelling. She couldn't remember the last time Mac had been that angry._

"_I don't want to hear it. You let me down."_

_His cold tone shook Stella. "I was worried about you."_

"_You betrayed my confidence, Stella. I trusted you."_

Stella couldn't betray his confidence again. She explained that he had confided in her, and she had passed that information onto Flack. The other CSIs sat in silence. The only reason Stella would have for going to Flack, they all realised, was if there was something bigger at stake than Mac's pride.

"What's the real problem?" Danny asked.

Stella swore to herself that she was probably going to hell. "Mac's been getting letters…"

Danny looked incandescent with rage. "Letters? Stel - has someone been threatening him?" Her silence confirmed it. "Son of a bitch!"

"Why didn't he say anything?" Lindsey asked. "What was in those letters?"

Stella refused to tell them; she had let Mac down enough. She couldn't help wondering what their reaction might have been had she told the whole story about her fractious meeting with him that morning.

"_I'm sorry, Mac. Really. But I thought this might get really serious."_

_He pulled another of the thin white envelopes out of his desk drawer and threw it across the desk towards her. Stella picked it up. She was still surprised by how angry he was - and how cold his eyes were when he looked at her. Mac might have been reserved over the last few years, but he had never been cold._

_She opened the envelope carefully, and took out a familiar looking piece of expensive white printing paper. Stella unfolded it, and began to read._

_TAYLOR_

_I KNOW YOU GOT MY LAST LETTER. I DELIVERED IT BY HAND, AND I SAW YOU GOING INTO WORK. YOU ARE IGNORING ME, AND THAT IS ONLY YOUR FIRST MISTAKE. YOU SHOULD LISTEN TO WHAT I HAVE TO SAY. LET ME TELL YOU THE TRUTH. WHETHER YOU LISTEN WILLINGLY, OR I HAVE TO MAKE YOU LISTEN - YOU WILL FIND OUT THAT CLAIRE WAS NOT THE PERFECT WOMAN YOU THINK SHE WAS. PHONE ME. _

_T.B._

"_He delivered it to my apartment. I found it under my door this morning."_

_Stella looked up at her friend in horror. She tucked the note back into its envelope. Mac looked so tired. So tired that she thought, for a second, that he might fall asleep on his desk. This had to be weighing on him. Maybe that was the whole point - to wear him down. But, Stella thought with an increasing sense of dread, for what purpose?_

"_Take it." he said wearily._

"_What?"_

"_Take it to Flack. You'll tell him anyway, so you may as well take it."_

Stella shook herself. She couldn't forget the look on his face when he said that. He looked so alone, and resigned. Somehow she had managed to alienate her friend at a time when he had really needed her. Not for the first time, Stella regretted not getting him to go to Flack himself.

The car screeched to a halt, jolting its occupants forward. They gingerly got out of the car. Danny glared at Sheldon.

"That is the last goddamned time you drive." he muttered.


	4. Chapter 4

DISCLAIMER - If I owned them, I'd have a reaaaallllyyyy nice house, car, computer, wardrobe… yeah, let's assume I don't!

A/N - Being new to this, I think I should ask - is it normal to check for reviews every three minutes?!

The scene had turned up no new evidence. They hadn't really expected it to. Mac and Lindsey were both very thorough in their work. Even when Danny joined them after finishing at his own scene, they had found nothing. The already tense mood between the CSIs nearly intensified when Danny refused to get in the car if Sheldon drove. In the end, Stella pulled rank. Lindsey drove instead.

They got back to the lab just in time to encounter a scene. Mac was standing just outside his office, gripping two small envelopes tightly in his hands. Flack and a young receptionist - Lucy - stood facing him. The CSIs looked at each other awkwardly - and realised that Mac was heading for them. Flack was coming after him.

"Finished already?" Mac asked, trying to appear calm.

Danny nodded. "Easiest case I had all year. Just gotta make sure the evidence matches up."

"Mac, show me the damned letters!" Flack snapped.

The head CSI turned on his heel, and handed them to the detective. Somehow, without throwing them at Flack, he made his feelings pretty obvious.

"Good luck with the case." Mac said shortly, and stalked back to his office.

While the other CSIs dispersed, Flack exchanged a worried glance with Stella. She took out a pair of latex gloves from her pocket and snapped them on. Flack handed the letters over. He hovered uncertainly.

"Come on." Stella said.

She led him to one of the smaller rooms in the lab, and the pair sat down to read the two letters.

TAYLOR

'IF ANYTHING IN THIS LIFE IS CERTAIN, IF HISTORY HAS TAUGHT US ANYTHING, IT IS THAT YOU CAN KILL ANYONE.'

I DON'T APPRECIATE BEING IGNORED, MR CSI, ESPECIALLY WHEN I HAVE COME SO FAR TO TALK TO YOU. HEAR ME OUT. I KNOW YOU'RE CURIOUS ABOUT ALL THIS - THAT'S ONLY NATURAL. JUST LISTEN, AND I CAN EXPLAIN EVERYTHING.

T.B.

"God, Mac…" Stella said.

She looked at Flack. He had gone pale, and was already rifling through his pockets for his cellphone.

"I'm gonna kick his ass for not telling us about this sooner."

Stella raised an eyebrow. "Join the queue."

Reluctantly, she opened the last letter. Her jaw dropped. Flack stopped looking for his phone and glanced at her. Stella turned the piece of paper round so he could see it. The detective paused for a moment, and swore loudly.

TAYLOR

BE SEEING YOU SOON.

T.B.

* * *

Two hours later, they were all sitting in the break room, talking about the letters Mac had been receiving. He had refused to sit down - he was still angry - so was standing, leaning against the wall. The team and a couple of techs had commandeered the chairs. Flack and the other detective he had dragged into it, Bradwen, had taken the sofa. 

Once everyone was filled in on the latest developments - and Mac shot Stella a cold look when he realised his CSIs were already partly aware of the situation - Flack asked what evidence had been found on the letters so far. Gruber, a fingerprint tech, spoke up first.

"We found only smudged partials on the letters. Nothing useful. Whoever wrote them was either really careful, or did it with some knowledge of forensics." Gruber thought for a moment. "Not that difficult these days to find out the basics."

Stella was next. She was careful to avoid Mac's accusing gaze. "The letter-writer signs his name each time - T.B., or Timothy Baywater. We haven't found any connection between him and Claire Taylor yet."

Mac winced at the mention of his wife's name. It had been nearly six years, and still there were times when it was too painful to even think about her.

"Lucy said a cop left the last letter with her - you, Bradwen." Danny said.

The officer nodded. "Yeah. I was late for work - dentists appointment. On my way in, a homeless guy handed me the envelope. He said Detective Taylor had asked him for some information."

"He was definitely homeless?" Flack asked.

Bradwen shrugged. "Could be a fake, but it ain't easy to pretend that kinda dirt." he said confidently.

"Yeah." Flack agreed. "A door in Mac's building was broken two days ago. The repair service has been dragging its hells. CCTV shows all sorts of traffic, and it only operates in the lobby area. Could be that's how Baywater got the letter to your apartment, Mac."

Mac ignored him. They had nothing. Despite his protests, he knew that this was becoming more sinister by the second. And the worst part was, nobody knew how to proceed. He made a split-second decision. Mac pushed himself away from the wall, and walked out of the room. He couldn't be there, listening to them discuss this. As he strode down the corridors, Mac buried the uncomfortable feeling that his anger at the team was irrational. His life was not a case - Claire was not a case - to be dissected in the lab.

A/N - Another cookie for anyone who can recognise the quote in this chapter. Should be easier than the last one.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer - Still no money. So I probably still don't own 'em. Oh well.

A/N - Yay! Reviews! It's amazing how smiley they make you! Seriously, thanks guys, they've been a great help. This chapter has caused me no end of trouble - partly cos it's a bit short, and I don't really like the idea of posting short chapters. On the other end, I've hacked it to pieces about four times, and I think it's pretty much done… as always, any suggestions are more than welcome. Enjoy (hopefully)! And well done for getting the quotes to iboneki and fruitbat - here is your cookie/chapter 5.

* * *

Flack strode into the bar, muttering and swearing under his breath. He took a seat at the bar. The barman made his way over. The detective handed over a few dollars and asked for a beer. He couldn't remember the last time something had gotten under his skin so much. A flash of Stella's frightened face swept across his mind. The beer appeared in front of him. Flack took a grateful swig of it. He didn't want to think about that. 

"Hey. You OK, Flack?"

He jumped, almost out of his skin. "Jesus, Danny, don't creep up on a guy like that!"

The CSI held his hands up in apology. "Sorry man. Come and sit with us."

Flack followed Danny over to the booth, and slumped onto the seat. They all knew he had taken responsibility for investigating Mac's letters, and had been waiting impatiently for a report since they left the lab. The detective held back. Not until he was halfway through his beer, and had stopped shaking with rage, did he speak up.

"You know that Mac is the most stubborn guy I have ever met?"

Stella shrugged. "Makes him good at his job."

"In this case, it makes him an ass."

Four shocked faces looked back at him. Flack explained. There had been another letter, longer this time, and it had been explicitly threatening. He swallowed a mouthful of beer, and tried to remember the exact wording.

TAYLOR

I NOW KNOW THAT YOU WILL NOT CONTACT ME. I DIDN'T WANT IT TO COME TO THIS. YOU HAVE FORCED ME TO TAKE ACTION. ONE PHONECALL COULD HAVE SAVED YOU A LOT OF TROUBLE. THINK ABOUT THAT WHEN WE FINALLY MEET.

I WON'T SAY WHEN OR WHERE IT WILL BE - ONLY THAT IT WILL HAPPEN. AND WHEN YOU LISTEN TO ME, YOU'LL DO IT WISHING YOU'D NEVER BEEN BORN. I DON'T LIKE BEING IGNORED, TAYLOR. I WARNED YOU ABOUT THIS. YOUR BLOOD IS ON YOUR OWN HANDS.

T.B.

Looking round at the faces of his friends, Flack related how the department chief had gone through the roof at Mac. In turn, the CSI had exploded in a fit of temper.

"Mac lost it?" Stella said softly.

Flack glanced at her. "Yeah. Big time. They were yelling in each other's faces." he said.

The detective still wasn't sure how he had managed to defuse the argument. It had gotten pretty nasty. Then, when everything was calming down, the department chief had brought up the idea of ordering protection for Mac.

"Stel, I've seen killers who looked less furious than Mac did. He just looked the chief in the eye and told him where to go."

"That's not exactly what he said, is it?" Danny asked, one eyebrow raised.

"No. But no-one sitting here is old enough to hear me repeat what Mac said." Flack looked right at Mac's closest friend. "He got himself suspended, Stel."

* * *

Mac lay on the sofa in his dark apartment, staring at the TV. Some mindless chat show played across the screen. He felt sick to his stomach. What the hell was going on? He had never lost control that badly, especially not at the lab. The accusations - the slurs on Claire's name - were getting under his skin. He couldn't help but speculate. Images of her in trouble; images of her with other men; they all filled his mind. He badly wanted to speak to Stella, but pride kept Mac from picking up the phone. 

He had refused protection, but the CSI had already noticed the squad car circling the block every ten minutes. Chances were that Flack was around somewhere. The detective had tried to reason with him. Mac knew that he would have to apologise to Don sometime. Anger at the detective flared up in him, a dark, uncontrollable anger that he knew was irrational.

A soft knock at the door startled Mac out of his thoughts. He reluctantly hauled himself to his feet. On his way to the door, he turned the lights on. How he chose to deal with this was his business. Mac looked through the peep-hole. It was Stella. He sighed, and opened the door. Her long curly hair was dripping wet - it must have started to rain.

Mac stood in the doorway. "Hey." he said, quashing the urge to let her in.

She smiled nervously. "Hey Mac."

"I'm tired, Stella."

"I just came to make sure you were OK. Flack told us about you getting suspended."

"It was stupid. I shouldn't have yelled like that. But I'm fine, really."

Stella was torn between leaving him alone, as he seemed to want, and forcing her way into his apartment. She didn't want to upset him any more. On the other hand, leaving him alone to brood in his apartment didn't seem like a good idea either. She found herself in the rare position of having no idea of what to do.

"Bye, Stella." he said abruptly.

The decision made for her, Stella resolved to come back when he had calmed down. "Bye Mac." she said, just as he closed the door on her.


	6. Chapter 6

DISCLAIMER - Still don't own it. Boo.

A/N - OK, this is the last chapter I already had written - although all of them have been heavily polished up! So there may be a wait till the next one. On the other hand, maybe not… Oh, cookie if you recognise the reference in here to a CSI episode, and the last quote that will be in this story…

* * *

The following morning, Stella arrived at the lab to find that everyone else was already hard at work. The break room was empty, and a half-full pot of coffee was still hot when she found it. Normally even the most diligent of lab techs would take a little nudging to work at full pace with the boss away, but Stella's only clash had been with Lindsey, who was not involved in Mac's investigation. Her triple-homicide case was still running. Sheldon, who was watching a foot-high stack of security tapes, was probably just as concerned. She walked out of the room with her coffee in hand, only to collide with Danny.

"Hey Stella." he said, recovering quickly, and rushing past her.

"Hey - wait, where's the fire?"

Danny spun on his heel. "Louise - document analysis. She's taking a look at the latest letters."

Stella swallowed a large mouthful of scalding coffe, and jogged to catch up with the younger CSI as he barrelled toward the lab tech's station. Louise Richmond was one of the most experienced techs they had. Anything that went through her was pretty much guaranteed to produce results. Despite this success rate, she was also notorious for complaining about the quality of the equipment she worked with, and the fact that she still did not have a room of her own to work in. It was shared with two other techs, who were also involved in document analysis.

As always, Louise's work area was pristine. She gestured to chairs as the CSIs walked in, without even looking up. There were two computers on her left - one that dealt with departmental emails, reports, and so on, and another which dealt specifically with document analysis. On the wall next to her desk, a large screen displayed what she had under the scanner. It was the note Flack had told them about in the bar. With a quick glance sideways, Stella caught Danny's eye. The younger CSI looked just as disturbed by it as she felt.

"Uh - huh." Louise murmured to herself.

Danny frowned. "What?"

The tech ignored him for a moment, while she magnified a small area of the paper. Tiny dots appeared in one corner of it. They formed a small line, almost like a drag mark.

"Looks like a defective printer."

"And that helps us how?"

Louise fixed him with a glare. "You wanna take over here? Or can I just do my job?"

"Hey, come on guys. Let's remember why we're doing this, and calm down." Stella said.

"Paper's high-end. Very expensive stuff."

The CSIs sat patiently and listened as Louise took them through a few notable points. It was nothing that could help them get any closer to finding the guy, but once they had a suspect, it could be useful. Eventually, she stopped, and turned towards them.

"Look," Louise sighed, "I want to be more help, but there's nothing remarkable about these notes. Next step is fingerprinting… but I wouldn't hold your breath." She took off her glasses and chewed absentmindedly on one arm of them. "This guy is clever. I don't think you're gonna find a damn thing."

Meanwhile, Mac walked into the lab feeling oddly nervous. He worked hard to keep up a professional exterior, and Timothy Baywarer was destroying it. In telling Flack, and getting it all out in the open, he felt Stella was destroying it too. A little voice in the back of his head reminded him that he would have done exactly the same in her position. _In fact_, the voice - which sounded oddly like Claire - _said, you wouldn__'__t have reacted half as well as she has, would you?_

"Hey Mac. Good to see ya."

He smiled briefly at Danny's cheerful greeting. "Hey."

"You back from suspension so soon?"

"After half a day? No. Chief wants to speak to me." Catching a flicker of worry crossing the younger man's face, Mac rolled his eyes. "He's not gonna fire me."

Danny tried to look convinced. "Yeah. Uh - Stella and me just looked at the last letter. Nothing on it."

Mac nodded. He hadn't expected there to be. "I'd better go. The Chief doesn't like to be kept waiting."

He turned away from Danny and headed for the elevators. In truth, Mac had been hoping to get to his office before anyone saw him, in case there were any more letters. As he stepped into the elevator, his hand reached into his jacket pocket, and rested on the corner of a slim white envelope.

Part of him knew that he should give the note to Stella, or Flack. But everything was spinning out of control so fast that he couldn't relinquish it. Timothy Baywater was his problem, not theirs. Mac's shaking hand took the envelope out of his pocket. He looked at for a second, before tearing it open. It was the same thick paper, but this time, a piece was torn off one corner. Mac inspected the plain side carefully. There didn't seem to be anything special about it. He opened the letter.

TAYLOR

'WOMEN ARE NATURALLY SECRETIVE, AND THEY LIKE TO DO THEIR OWN SECRETING.'

THIS COULD BE TALKING ABOUT CLAIRE. SHE HAD HER SECRETS, AND I WILL PASS THEM ONTO YOU BEFORE THIS ENDS. YOUR FRIENDS WILL NOT BE SUCCESSFUL IN THEIR EFFORTS TO FIND ME. PERHAPS YOU WILL GIVE IN, IF I TELL YOU THAT WE HAVE ALREADY MET. THINK BACK, TAYLOR. WAS IT YEARS AGO, IN CLAIRE'S COMPANY? OR WAS IT YESTERDAY MORNING, ON THE SUBWAY? THEY CAN TRY TO STOP ME, BUT IT WILL BE IMPOSSIBLE AS LONG AS NONE OF YOU KNOW WHAT I LOOK LIKE. WATCH YOUR BACK.

T.B.

He folded the letter back up, and slid it into the envelope. His heart was thudding in his chest. Over the past few days, Mac had tried to convince himself that Baywater was having no effect on him.

Instinct told him that he should hand the letter over. For a moment, Mac tried to stop himself. The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. His hand shot out, and stabbed at the buttons. With a jolt, the elevator moved again. This time, instinct won.


	7. Chapter 7

-1DISCLAIMER - Don't own anything. So not fair.

A/N - This chapter is, once again, not quite as long as I would have liked, but I wanted to get an update on today. I hope you like the way its going - will they find the mysterious 'T.B.'? Will Mac lose control again? Read on…

* * *

The thin white envelope landed on the desk in front of Stella. She jumped, and span round in her chair. Mac's blank expression stared back at her. He looked pale and tired.

"Another one?" she asked softly.

He nodded. Stella placed a gentle hand on his arm. She hoped he knew that she would back him up, whatever the problem.

"It's -" he said. Furiously, Mac tore his arm from his friend's grip, and began pacing up and down the tiny room.

"Mac, you need to calm down." Stella knew immediately it was the wrong thing to say.

His eyes flashed at her. "Calm down? How the hell am I supposed to calm down. Tell me that!"

He whirled away, to face the wall. Stella could see he was breathing heavily. She looked down at the envelope, and wondered if the letter writer realised how much damage he was doing. They had found no evidence of a link between Claire Taylor and anyone called Timothy Baywater. Whoever this was - either their acquaintance had been brief, or Claire had kept it secret. Stella hoped it was the former.

"Mac-"

"The Chief wants to see me."

Stella sighed. "OK, Mac." She wasn't going to get anything out of him just yet.

With a carefully controlled expression, Mac turned round to face Stella. She forced herself to stay in her chair. There was military precision in the way Mac turned and walked out of the lab. Stella watched him go, wishing she could reach him. It could only be a matter of time before he cracked, and if the last couple of days were any indication, that could be messy.

Shaking herself, the CSI refocused her attention on the latest missive. At first, there appeared to be no difference between this note and the others. Then Stella noticed two things. The first - the torn-off corner of the printing paper. The second was a slight smudge in the bottom-left corner of the letter. Mentally, she crossed her fingers. Reaching for the printing powder, Stella prayed that she was right about this.

Her brush danced for a second in the dark powder, then swept across the surface of the paper. There, standing boldly against stark white, was a clear fingerprint. Stella allowed a small smile to creep across her face. She lifted the print, and held the small piece of plastic up to the light.

"They always make a mistake." she said to herself.

"What've you got?"

Stella looked up to see Danny in the doorway. She held up the letter triumphantly. He grinned, and turned into the corridor.

"Hey, Montana, Hawkes! We got something!"

It seemed as though they were all crowded into the tiny room just seconds later. Stella swore she'd never seen them move so fast. Sheldon, for his part, had definitely been running. The tiny smudge that had turned out to be a fingerprint represented perhaps their only chance of finding out who Timothy Baywater really was.

"Wanna run it?" Stella asked, handing the fingerprint to Danny.

He took the lift as though it were an eggshell. There would be no mistakes here - no fumbling. The others watched as Danny placed the fingerprint into the scanner, and closed the lid. After a few seconds, it appeared on the computer screen. It wasn't a full print - which they all realised could be a problem - but it was enough to start with. Danny tapped a few keys on the keyboard, and waited while the computer ran the print.

"All we gotta do is wait." he said, stepping back.

"Wait for what?" Flack's deep voice asked from the doorway. "And how come you're all stuck in here?"

"Our favourite detective." Stella grinned. "We got a print off a letter Mac received this morning."

They didn't get the response they had expected. A dark look crossed Flack's face, and he muttered something under his breath. The detective snatched his phone out of his pocket.

"What's up?" Danny asked.

"Where did he say he got the letter?"

Stella frowned. "He didn't. Just handed it over, and said the Chief wanted to see him."

"Mac didn't stay at his apartment last night. He went to a hotel."

The implications were not lost on any of them. Baywater had already shown that he knew where Mac lived and worked. Those were things almost anyone could find out, given the motivation. However, to know that Mac wasn't staying at his apartment, Baywater had to be watching him. The situation had just gotten much worse. Flack pressed the call button on his cell-phone. It rang for just a few seconds.

"Hey, Maria." he said. Maria was the Chief's PA, and a formidable woman. "He in there? OK, don't let him leave. I'll be there in two minutes." Flack hung up. He looked at the CSIs. "If he comes down here, stop him leaving. I don't care what Mac says. He's getting twenty-four hour protection, whether he likes it or not."


	8. Chapter 8

DISCLAIMER - Not mine. If they were mine, I'd be rich, and therefore would own a much better laptop than the one I do own. Although - its still pretty cool. 

A/N - There should be a few more chapters in this story, if only because I'm finding it develops quite a lot, the more I get into it. So, expect at least four more. Hope you enjoy this one - to give you a very brief clue, there'll be much more action soon.

* * *

Flack skidded round the corner, only to find the elevator doors closing. He swore, and jabbed a finger at the button. It seemed to take forever for the light to come on. He shifted from one foot to the other, trying to work out some of the excess anxiety. The detective could feel his heart thudding against his ribcage. Flack promised himself that as soon as he found Mac, he would not let him out of his sight.

The others had promised to keep an eye out for their errant boss. Danny was hanging around the break room with Sheldon Hawkes; they were both doing a very bad job of trying to look inconspicuous. Lindsey was still working on the triple-homicide. Stella, meanwhile, was in Mac's office. As far as they could, they had all the bases covered. Flack just hoped that they could stop him leaving. He knew that if he had been in Mac's position, nothing could have persuaded him to give up his privacy.  
Finally the elevator arrived. The doors opened, and Flack stepped inside. He pressed the button, and waited impatiently for the doors to close. Just as they slid shut, Flack saw the man he was looking for cross the lab. The detective swore again, as the elevator began to move. He whipped out his cell-phone, and rang Stella.

"Pick up, pick up..." he muttered.

A few rings later, he got his wish. "Hey Flack. What's up?"

"He's in the lab. I just saw him as the elevator doors were closing - it's up to you. I'll be back down in a second." Flack said hurriedly.

Down in the lab, Stella snapped her phone shut. She walked out of Mac's office. Walking down the corridor with an air of defiance and determination was her friend and boss. He looked better than he had earlier - but Stella thought that was probably because he had something to focus on. She blocked his path.

"Stella-" he said, with a note of warning in his voice.

She shook her head. "Not this time, Mac. This guy has been following you."

Mac tried to turn away from her, but Stella stepped in front of him again. She grabbed one of his arms.

"Look at me!" she begged. "If this was happening to any one of us-"

"I know." he said quietly.

"Then why won't you listen to us?"

Mac looked her in the eye. "Because I want to know what he's talking about."

Stella froze. She let her arm fall to her side. "Why?"

He refused to answer. Instead, the former Marine brushed past her as though she wasn't there. Stella turned to watch him stride down the corridor away from her. She couldn't quite believe what he had told her. Just then, Danny came jogging round the corner. He looked at his boss, leaving, and then at Stella's horrified face. The younger CSI made a split-second decision, and made off down the corridor after Mac. He didn't want to be the one to tell Don Flack they'd let him go.

"What happened?" Lindsey asked, from the doorway of a small lab nearby.

Stella sighed heavily. "I'm not sure. Let's just hope Danny can catch up with him."

The two women went into Mac's office to wait for news. Neither of them could think of a thing to say when Flack arrived just minutes later. He looked at them both, waiting for an explanation. They looked just as Maria had when Flack had run into her at the Chief's office. The poor woman had apologised profusely, saying that Detective Taylor had left too quickly for her to stop him.

"Where the hell is he?" the detective demanded.

"Danny's gone after him." Lindsey explained.

Flack caught the expression on Stella's face. "What happened?"

Stella stared down at her hands, trying to figure it out herself, as she related the conversation she'd had with Mac to them both. A look halfway between disbelief and horror crossed their faces. Halfway across the lab, Danny had finally caught up with his boss. He grabbed the older man's shoulder. Mac spun round, absolutely furious, and knocked Danny's hand off him. The younger CSI stepped back.

"Mac, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me is that none of you will leave me alone. This is my business." he snapped.  
"Everyone's worried."

Danny's gentle approach seemed to sap the energy out of Mac. His shoulders slumped, and the fire went out of his eyes. Leaning against the wall, he ran a hand through his short hair. Danny waited anxiously. This really wasn't his thing. It wasn't his place - but if it was the only way to get through to Mac, then he had no choice. Stella's attempts to talk to him had not worked.

"What is it that you want, Mac?" he asked softly.

"Investigate this guy. Get him for me. But - leave - me - alone."

Mac pushed himself away from the wall, and left Danny standing alone in the corridor, as he'd left Stella minutes earlier. Reluctantly, Danny let him go. He headed back the way he'd come, stopping outside Mac's office when he realised everyone was waiting for him in there. He pushed open the door.

Flack jumped to his feet. "Where is he?"

"He left." Danny said. "Wants us to leave him be."

The detective's eyes narrowed in anger. "The hell with that."

"Flack-" Stella said. "-if he really doesn't want protection, there's nothing you can do."

The tall detective paced up and down the room. He kicked the bin angrily. It skittered across the floor, spilling its meagre contents, and coming to rest at Danny's feet. Sensibly, the CSI didn't move. Flack leant down, resting his hands on the desk. He gripped it so tightly, his knuckles went white.

"I know." he snapped. "I know that. But if he doesn't have protection, there's nothing this guy won't do."


	9. Chapter 9

-1DISCLAIMER - Don't own em.

A/N - Oh, the evils of beer. I've got a hangover, hence the extra-melancholy mood of this chapter. I'm gonna go make a cup of tea now…

A/N - One small (and slightly more relevant) note - this is the second longest chapter so far. Yay!

* * *

Mac stepped over a discarded pizza box. He held his breath as the stench of the trash cans wafted by him. The CSI had been wandering through New York for hours. He had forgotten so much of it - like the memorials in Battery Park. This was where so much of his work came from though; the alleyways and back streets, where someone might fall over a body on their way home. 

He sighed heavily, and skirted his way round a homeless man who lay curled up in a sleeping bag. The man's snoring filled the alleyway. Mac glanced down at him, wondering if maybe one day soon, the poor guy would be one of his cases. _Home_, said Mac's inner voice, _go home and sleep_. The homeless man stirred. Mac took it as a sign to move on, and so the CSI started walking again. His feet were throbbing in his work shoes. They were solid, and practical, but definitely not made for walking through Manhattan for five hours.

Stella, he knew, would be worried. If Danny's confrontation with him in the lab was any indication, he too would be concerned. Mac began to feel the faintest stirrings of guilt. Having distanced himself from them, he had started to see why they were so insistent on getting him some protection.

The alleyway came out into one of the quieter neighbourhoods in the south-west of Manhattan. He knew where he was headed - where he had been heading all day if he was truthful with himself. Seven years ago, he would have taken the protection. Not for himself, but for Claire. Mac knew he could look after himself in almost any situation. This, though, this was exceptional.

He kept walking till he got to Ground Zero. There was quite a crowd in the area. Workers and tourists, he supposed. Mac stood, looking at the vast space, as the first drops of rain started falling.

* * *

At the lab, the fingerprint search had come to nothing. The team, feeling quite discouraged, had gone over every letter again. Unsurprisingly, they came up empty. Stella had eventually insisted that they all take a break, while they waited for Flack to bring them news. It was a subdued group that sat around the break room. 

"Y'think maybe Mac wants to talk to this guy?" Danny asked suddenly.

Stella tried not to look him in the eye. "No."

"I guess its none of my business, but - I would want to." he said. "He didn't call the guy though, so maybe not."

Flack's entrance prevented Stella from having to lie outright. She sat up straight, hoping for some good news for a change. The detective slumped into a chair.

"Well, I've been halfway round the city. Nobody who knew Claire Taylor seems to have heard of Timothy Baywater." he said.

Stella frowned. "Noone?"

"I'm beginning to think maybe this guy never knew her at all."

"You thinking stalker?"

"Or just a head-case. The point is, there is no proof of any connection between them. We can't even prove the guy exists outside of a few letters." Flack snapped angrily.

The tension dropped out of him. He ran a hand over his face.

"Feel better?" Danny asked.

"Much, thank you."

With another possibility scratched off, the list of potential motives was growing shorter. They hadn't spoken to a couple of Claire's closest friends, and still had to speak to her sister, who lived in Brooklyn, but was on holiday somewhere in Florida.

"There is one possibility we haven't considered." Lindsey said quietly. The others waited. "What if there is no Timothy Baywater?"

Stella leapt right in. "Are you suggesting Mac wrote these himself?"

"No! But what if Timothy Baywater isn't real? What if it's a penname for someone else? It wouldn't be hard to find out who Claire Taylor was - or to figure out a way of getting to Mac."

Danny considered the idea for a moment. "She could be right. The only evidence we have is badly damaged CCTV of a guy about six feet tall, wearing dark clothes, walking through the hotel lobby."

The hotel security guards had apologised for the poor quality of the recordings. Their budget had been slashed in half. Rather than skimp on all areas, they had chosen to focus their efforts on prevention rather than detection.

"For now, we keep pursuing the idea that this Baywater is our guy. Lindsey, you done with the triple homicide?" Flack asked.

She nodded. "For now. There's nothing else I can do today."

"Stella, you mind-?" Flack waited for her to shake her head before continuing. "Lindsey, speak to everyone Claire knew. If we already spoke to them, speak to them again. Find her sister. Find those friends."

The young CSI got up immediately and went to start her phone-calls. She was eager to be involved.

"Danny, you and me are going to find Mac." Flack turned to Stella. "I need you to go to Mac's apartment."

There was no need to explain. Stella was being charged with searching the place for any clues as to whether Mac or Claire had ever known someone by the name of Timothy Baywater. She knew Mac had thrown away everything he had of Claire, but it was possible he'd missed something.

Flack strode out of the break room, with Danny hot on his heels. They had done almost everything they could to find the letter-writer; barring the two friends, and Claire's sister, the only person close to her that they hadn't spoken to was Mac. Like it or not, he was going to have to cooperate.

* * *

Mac walked away from Ground Zero feeling oddly lighter. He supposed he had just wanted to remind himself - as though it wasn't always on the edge of his thoughts. With a renewed vigour, the CSI walked through the streets of Manhattan. He made his way through two blocks of packed sidewalks before ducking into the same alleyway he had used earlier. 

The homeless man had moved on, presumably to find a dryer spot. The rain, which had been falling lightly, was now getting heavier. Mac drew his coat tighter round himself, wishing that he had headed home earlier. He sidestepped something unpleasantly unidentifiable, and decided that he probably just shouldn't have bothered leaving his comfortable hotel room that morning.

A scraping sound to Mac's left made him jump. He chuckled when a very small, very wet cat slunk out from under a soggy pizza box. It was domestic, not feral. Presumably it had just been taking cover. He was about to walk on, when a sound to his right grabbed his attention. Mac turned to see a brick headed straight for his face. He turned his head as fast as he could. The brick smashed against his temple. Mac's eyes rolled up as his vision greyed, and faded out. The CSI crumpled to the ground, unconscious.


	10. Chapter 10

-DISCLAIMER - Don't own it, lalala.

A/N - This is not one of my favourite sections, but… I hope you guys like it.

A/N - In addition to obsessively checking for reviews, I have now developed a habit of obsessively checking the hit count on this story - please, more of you review! It would be so helpful. :-)

* * *

Mac's eyes flickered open. He winced at the pain that lanced through his skull. Gingerly, the CSI touched his head. He blinked in the early morning light. With a detached, blurry feeling, Mac noted that his fingers were stained red. Blood. Somewhere at the back of his mind, that registered. He disjointedly started to search through his pockets. Nothing was working like it was supposed to. An attempt to sit up was quickly abandoned.

Even with his mind fuzzy, Mac noticed quickly that his wallet was missing. He realised then what had happened. He had been mugged. Chances were, they'd taken everything of value. Mac searched his pockets again for his phone, thanking God that he had stopped wearing his wedding ring. Miraculously, he discovered his phone in his left jacket pocket. Maybe he had landed on it, and the mugger hadn't been able to lift him. Or maybe they were disturbed.

Either way, Mac was very grateful. He started calling Stella with shaky hands. It was cold in the alleyway, and it had been raining for most of the night. The detective in him realised how lucky he was not to have been hurt worse. The phone rang for a few seconds, exacerbating his pounding headache.

"Mac? Is that you?" She sounded out of breath - and panicky. Not an emotion he would have associated with her.

"Hey Stella."

Then it all changed. "Where the hell have you been? Flack and Danny spent hours looking for you." she said furiously.

"I got mugged."

There was a sharp intake of breath at the other end of the phone. "What? Where are you?"

Mac looked at his stinking, soaking surroundings. "I'm in an alleyway - not sure where-" Mac squeezed his eyes shut against the constant thudding in his head. "I think near NYU - a few blocks away maybe."

"OK, stay on the phone, Mac." Stella sounded like she was moving now. She shouted instructions he couldn't quite make out to someone else. "Are you hurt?"

"I'll be fine. Just got hit on the head." he said tiredly.

"OK, nothing to damage there."

He laughed weakly at the feeble joke. "Thanks, Stella."

At the other end of the phone, Stella was racing down to the parking garage, with Danny and Sheldon in tow. Lindsey was busy examining trace evidence from the triple homicide. They made it in record time. Danny leapt into the driver's seat with a glance warning Sheldon not to argue. He hadn't forgotten their car ride a few days earlier.

Stella tried to keep Mac talking, but he was becoming less and less coherent as time went on. She gripped her seat tightly. There was no way Danny was driving at a legal speed. Predictably though, they hit traffic.

"You need to tell us exactly where you are, Mac."

He gave her a more precise area, but still couldn't tell her his exact location. Danny swore at the traffic, and turned off the road at the first opportunity. It felt like an eternity, but it could only have been minutes, before they pulled up in an illegal space, three blocks fron NYU. Stella was first out of the car. She looked around, trying to figure out which direction to go in.

"He's somewhere near here." The phone had disconnected just seconds before they had stopped. "Danny, you go that way. We'll-"

"No need."

Stella frowned. Danny's attention was focused on a point somewhere over her shoulder. She turned round. There on street, weaving slightly, but standing, was Mac. Streaks of blood marked his face, and stained his shirt, but to her he looked pretty good. Stella ran to his side, quickly followed by Sheldon and Danny. The two men supported Mac, whose weaving was becoming more pronounced.

"Hey." Stella said softly, as she examined his head wound. "It's good to see you."

He grinned. "Believe me, its good to see you guys too."

Mac related the whole sorry tale to them as they guided him carefully back to the car. He knew without asking that they were taking him straight to the hospital. In truth, he was quite relieved about that. The world was spinning crazily, he was beginning to feel nauseous, and the thumping in his head would not let up.

This time Sheldon drove, and Danny offered no argument. Stella sat in the back with Mac, making sure he stayed awake and sitting up straight. His eyes glazed over as the car screeched round a corner.

"Hawkes, try to make sure we arrive in one piece." Stella snapped.

"Sorry!" he called back over his shoulder.

Danny looked at his boss, whose face had gone deathly pale. "So how come this guy didn't get his ass kicked?" he asked, trying to take Mac's mind off the gash on his head.

"A cat." A look of confusion crossed Danny's face. "Distracted me." Mac explained.

Danny raised an eyebrow, but didn't argue. He winced as Sheldon took another corner at high speed. It was then that he noticed the white envelope sitting on the dashboard.


	11. Chapter 11

DISCLAIMER - Still not mine. Still not rich. Bah humbug.

A/N - With a speed that, believe me, surprises even myself, here is chapter eleven. Please enjoy, and please review, because it makes me happy and smiley, and thus more inclined to write at the same speed in the future.

P.S. - This is also turning out to be considerably longer than I had anticipated. I'm sure you've all been there when a story gets a mind of its own… plus people seemed to like it. Anyways, my initial estimate of fourteen chapters ain't gonna cut it. Probably going to be twenty, but I shouldn't think any more than that, 'cos I have an idea for another story. Yay!

P.P.S. - This is the new winner of 'longest chapter in the story'. Woooo!

* * *

With Mac safely under armed guard, Flack had figured he would feel better about all this. Sitting at his desk in a darkened squadroom, he realised that he actually felt worse. For one thing, Mac had an impressive row of stitches and one hell of a headache, and for another, Flack still hadn't told him about the latest letter. Danny had handed it to him with a pensive expression on his face.

"_I figured - well, he's under enough stress right now, and chances are with that bump on his head he'd forget whatever I told him anyway-"_

_Flack interrupted him, figuring that Danny could go on like that for hours. "What the hell are you talking about, Messer?"_

_Looking (and feeling) guilty, Danny took a plastic bag out of his pocket. In it there was another of the white envelopes that had dominated their lives over the past couple of days. Flack shut his eyes tightly, frustrated at Baywater's persistence._

"_Where'd you get it?" the detective asked in clipped tones._

_Danny looked him in the eye. "In a locked car."_

_He froze. "What?"_

"_Flack-" Danny spat, trying desperately to be quiet and failing. "-this is someone who either has access to NYPD vehicles, or is an expert."_

_Flack looked over his shoulder, and dragged Danny to a quieter part of the hospital waiting room. Stella and Lindsey were in the canteen, getting coffee and something to eat. He wondered briefly if they knew about the letter, and asked Danny outright._

_The other man nodded. "Yeah. We haven't told him."_

"_I got that."_

"_So what do we do?"_

_Flack tucked the letter into his pocket. "You go over the car. I take the letter in. Hopefully, we'll have it all sorted out before Mac gets out of hospital."_

"_You're not going to tell him?"_

"_Last time he got one of these, he went nuts at us, and got himself hit on the head. You wanna go for another one of those?"_

_Danny grimaced. He knew from past experience that keeping secrets from Mac was a bad idea. On this occasion though, he agreed with Flack. The only question was, could they find Baywater before Mac was released?_

Dishonesty was something that had never sat well with Flack, and he was beginning to regret his earlier decision to hide the letter's existence from Mac. He had only just got back to his desk. It still lay unopened in his hand.

"I made my bed-" Flack muttered to himself.

He threw his coat over his arm, picked the letter up very carefully, and headed for the lab. Mac's team had told him a hundred times how good Louise Richmond was. It was the perfect time for her to live up to that reputation.

* * *

He hovered over Louise, who was taking the unnecessary intrusion into her working practices surprisingly well. Flack had asked if she would mind him staying. The tech rolled her eyes, and waved dismissively at a chair.

"_When you work with those guys-" and they both understood who she was talking about "-you get used to the occasional frantic observation. Make yourself comfortable, Detective. There's a magazine in the corner if you get bored."_

He had tried reading it, but when he realised the main feature was how to cope with severe period pains, Flack dropped the magazine like a hot potato. A small twitch at the corner of Louise's mouth suggested she'd known he would do just that. Since then, Flack had busied himself trying to think of new ways to look for Baywater. He was just going through the particularly outlandish ones when a paper ball hit his head. The detective scowled, and looked up at Louise, who smirked back. She held up her hand, to prevent any retaliation.

"This is a lab, not a playground, Detective."

His jaw dropped. "But you-"

"Double standards. My house, my rules. Anyway, I was just trying to get your attention. I think I might have something."

Flack was over by the computers faster than should have been possible given the awkward layout of the room. Louise pointed to the screen. At first, Flack didn't see what she was looking at. It was small. Very small. He squinted at it, smiling gratefully when the tech magnified the area they were looking at.

"Impressions." he said softly.

She nodded. "Made by someone writing on a piece of paper above it. Might be nothing, might be something."

"How soon are you gonna know?"

Louise shrugged. "Initial glance? Give me fifteen minutes. And for god's sake, go and drink some coffee."

Flack grinned. He got now why everyone spoke so highly of Louise Richmond. As he left her lab, he remembered the first time he had heard her name. He and Danny had been playing pool in a local bar.

_Flack leant across the table, trying to ignore Danny, who was attempting to put him off. Very smoothly, the detective potted a ball. He stood up straight, and twisted, trying to get the kinks out of his back. Danny leant against the side of the pool table._

"_Oh man, we got this new tech - document analysis - she is hot.."_

_At first, Flack had ignored him. Danny was always telling him about one woman or another who had captured his attention. But as the game went on, his friend wouldn't shut up. Flack had started to listen._

His grin widened as he remembered Danny's mortified face when he'd met Flack in the same bar two weeks later. It turned out that Danny had been trying to flirt with her - very gently, according to the CSI - only for Louise's husband to turn up. Danny's red face and horrified expression had kept him laughing for hours.

Whistling a tune, Flack walked into the break room with a spring in his step for the first time in days. He had expected it to be empty, but Gruber - who, for a moment, Flack couldn't remember - and Lindsey were both in there drinking coffee. He poured himself a cup. After a second's thought, he poured another cup, for Louise. The detective sat down at the table, opposite Lindsey, who looked tired and subdued.

"Why are you so happy?" Lindsey asked with a yawn.

Flack glanced at her. It was ironic that not long after that episode with Louise, Lindsey had started working in the lab. And not long after _that_, Danny had stopped talking about different women every five minutes.

"Richmond thinks we might have something. And, y'know, I'm gonna get this guy." Flack said.

His enthusiasm was infectious. "Yeah?" Lindsey sat up excitedly. "What've we got?"

Louise Richmond burst through the door. She was out of breath and unkempt. Apparently that hairstyle only worked as long as she sat still in her lab. Flack stood up abruptly, nearly spilling coffee all over Lindsey's lap. The CSI didn't seem to notice.

"I haven't got the whole thing before you ask, and yes, it'll take a little while longer. I don't want to damage the letter." Louise said breathlessly.

"But?" Flack prodded.

"But it's definitely a phone number. Out of state."

Flack breathed a heavy sigh of relief. A lead at last. He handed a cup of coffee to Louise, and slung his arm round her ample shoulders as he walked with her back to her lab. Lindsey relaxed in her chair. She had found it incredibly frustrating to not be involved in the investigation.

A smile crossed her face when she heard Flack's voice drifting down the corridor, speaking to Louise.

"_Have I told you how much I love you? No really - I mean, undying love. Especially if that number turns out to be legit."_


	12. Chapter 12

-DISCLAIMER - Still not mine.

A/N - Thanks for all the reviews - you all rock. Particular thanks to woundedragon - a lot of times, people don't like to admit they don't like something about a story. But it can sometimes be very useful - and it makes an author look at their work very differently. Much thanks. I was a little dubious about some of it myself - anyways, hope you feel this chapter is a 'return to form' as they say. Unfortunately, I have hit a bit of an impasse with this story, so probably just the one chapter tomorrow! Got to work a few plot problems out…

* * *

Stella hovered uncertainly outside Mac's apartment. He had refused to go to a hotel. Instead, Flack had posted an officer just outside his door, which was all the ex-Marine would allow. Even then, it had taken an enormous amount of persuasion. Which, Stella freely admitted, had become tantamount to bribery, threats, and manipulation at various points in the conversation.

She glanced at Flack, who looked just as unhappy as she felt about being here. It had, after all, been his decision to hide the letter from Mac. Stella knocked on her friend's front door.

There was a short pause before they heard some shuffling footsteps. The door opened just a crack. Mac looked half-asleep. His hair was sticking up in odd directions. He also looked very annoyed.

"Is there some reason you're waking me up at three in the morning?"

Stella handed him a copy of the letter. "When we found you - we got back to the car, and this was sitting on the dashboard waiting for you."

He took it from her, and read the letter quickly and quietly.

TAYLOR

YOUR TEAM WILL RUN AROUND, LOOKING FOR ANYTHING THEY CAN TO FIND ME. THEY WON'T BE IN TIME. HOPE YOU ENJOYED YOUR CAMPING TRIP. THANKS FOR THE CASH. DON'T WORRY, I WON'T BE USING THE CARDS.

T.B.

He let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. Baywater hadn't reacted to the mugging. He was the one who had carried it out. Mac felt ice creeping up his spine. He glanced up at Stella and Flack.

"Why didn't you tell me about this before?"

Stella nodded towards the office guarding the door. After a moment, when she thought he might slam the door in his face, Mac stepped aside to let her and Flack in. They headed straight for the comfortable sofa that sat in the middle of his living room. It was just old enough to be really lived in. Mac took the chair that matched it.

"Well?" he asked shortly.

"It was my idea. I didn't want you turning down Officer Happy out there."

"I get the impression that I'm a punishment for him."

Flack suddenly found the floor very interesting. "Uh - yeah."

"So what do we do?"

The detective's brow wrinkled in confusion. He had expected more of a battle. Then he caught Mac's eye, and realised that the battle was far from over. He looked just as angry as the first time they had clashed. Only this time, he knew he had to agree with them.

Stella leant forward. "We're just looking out-"

Mac cut her off. "I don't want to hear it. You forced your way into this, and I have no choices left. You want me to cooperate with you? Let me do something." he demanded angrily.

"Louise Richmond found the impression of a phone number on this latest letter. It belongs to a motel in Providence, Rhode Island." Flack explained. He fished a piece of paper out of his jacket pocket. "Uh - the Flamingo. That mean anything to you?"

Mac shook his head. "Probably means something to Baywater though." He explained when it was clear that neither of them had reached the same conclusion. "He didn't leave that number on the letter by accident."

"He's right. Whoever Baywater is, he's smart. What have we got so far? One partial, and an imprint of a phone number." Stella said, exasperated.

"There's only one way to get this guy, Flack."

The detective narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Oh yeah? What's that?"

Mac looked just then like the ex-soldier he was. A feral smile crossed his face. "Draw him out with bait."


	13. Chapter 13

DISCLAIMER - Still not mine.

A/N - Feeling much more positive about the story - it's amazing what a night's sleep can do to the old brain. Gonna finish it, hopefully within a week. Depends on whether I get real work! Damn real life!

P.S. Sorry about the shortness - just was really pleased to get a major plot problem sorted, so had to get something posted quick.

* * *

They hadn't been able to persuade the Chief that using Mac as bait to catch Baywater was a good idea. Privately, Stella was relieved, but she could see it had just made Mac angrier. She wasn't sure how much longer he could go on like this without exploding again. Her mind resolved, she left the rest of the team working feverishly on other things, and went to see Mac in his office. 

She got a sense of deja-vu when she saw him standing by his window, staring out at the city. Stella's heart was heavy. If he was as tightly wound now as he had been the first time she had raised her concerns about him, they would get nowhere. She took a seat, and waited. For what she wasn't sure.

"What do you want, Stella?" His tone was flat. She couldn't quite work it out.

Stella shrugged. "I want you to calm down."

He turned to face her. Mac's expression was carefully schooled into neutrality. "I am calm."

"No, you are angry, and that's OK."

Mac sat down, and leant on his desk. He looked the picture of professionalism, apart from the bruise gracing his temple and the stitches closing the long cut. It had only been a short time since the mugging, and Stella was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to be at work. At this juncture though, she wasn't prepared to argue that.

"How's Lindsey's case going?"

She bit back the urge to nag him, and gave in. "It's good. Fibres she found on two of the victims match a sweater worn by her suspect. There's a fingerprint on the knife that matches him too. Only problem is, it's possible that could have gotten there some other way."

"How soon till they can move on it?"

"They're doing it now, I think."

Mac nodded. "Good. I want Sheldon to join her on the case."

Stella had reassigned him to it already, but kept quiet. If what her friend needed was a little bit of normality, that was what he would get.

"Flack wanted to speak to you." she said tentatively.

After the debacle in the Chief's office, they had clashed. Flack, like Stella, had not been keen on the idea from the start. His mistake was in saying so. Mac had been furious with them both. The two men had ended up shouting in each other's faces. For a moment, Stella had been worried that someone might throw a punch.

"Door's open." Seeing Stella's glance at the undeniably closed door, Mac rolled his eyes. "Metaphorically."

"I'll let him know." Evidently the whole episode was to be forgotten. Stella rose to her feet. "Mac, if you need anything-"

She expected him to ignore her. Perhaps even to snap at her. Instead, a small smile fleetingly crossed Mac's face, and he nodded his acknowledgement. Stella left his office with her heart lightened.

As soon as she was gone, Mac took out a large brown envelope from his desk drawer. It was thick, and stamped with the logo of the company that supplied gas to his apartment building. He had received it that morning. The officer in charged of guarding him - no longer Officer Happy, as Flack had dubbed him, but another equally cheerful young officer. Mac wondered what they had all been doing to get stuck with this duty. He had decided that he probably didn't want to know.

In any case, the officer hadn't blinked an eyelid as he handed over Mac's post. The CSI reached into the brown envelope and drew out a slim white one. Baywater's persistence was impressive if nothing else. He opened the letter, noting that this time there were no imprinted phone numbers, nor anything else. He doubted very much that there was any evidence on it. Mac reread the letter, trying to decide what to do about it.

TAYLOR

MY PATIENCE IS EXHAUSTED. I CAN NO LONGER PLAY THESE GAMES. EITHER YOU MEET ME, OR THE BUMP ON YOUR HEAD WILL FEEL LIKE A TINY SCRATCH. TODAY, 3PM, AT RONSON'S. I WILL KNOW IF WE ARE BEING WATCHED.

T.B.

Mac knew he should let everyone know about the letter. It made sense to. But somehow - after the Chief had rejected his ideas about catching Baywater - it felt like there was no other way to regain the control he felt slipping through his fingers. Mac slid the letter, envelopes and all, back into his desk drawer. He leant forward and rested his head in his hands, trying to figure out what to do.


	14. Chapter 14

DISCLAIMER - Still not mine.

A/N - Chapter 14, and it's been hectic… Only a few more to go. Hopefully you like this… And thanks again for all your reviews - as I've said, I like to hear from everyone!

P.S. - Next story is being planned out in my head. It's taken about eight different forms so far though, so I wouldn't hold your breath!

* * *

Danny poked his head round Mac's office door. He frowned when he realised it was empty. He was sure Stella had told him that Mac was in today. The CSI needed to borrow that he knew was on his boss's desk. He wandered over to it, and was just flicking through the stack of light beige folders when a flash of white caught his eye. Danny's guard went up immediately. He glanced up to make sure that noone was coming. Quickly, he yanked at the corner of the white piece of paper, and held it up triumphantly.

As soon as he read the note though, Danny's good mood disappeared. His heart sank. There was no way Stella or Flack had seen this. He would have heard about it by now. That meant that Mac had gone off on his own. Danny's legs were moving before his mind had caught up. He bolted from the office and slid round the corner, almost crashing into Gruber. The fingerprint tech flattened himself against the wall just in time.

"Go find Stella, or Flack, anybody!" Danny yelled over his shoulder as he ran down the corridor.

Gruber's confused expression faded. He realised Danny had something. There was no way Messer got that hyperactive for no reason. He knew where Stella Bonasera was - it was her that Gruber was going to see. Meanwhile, Danny had managed to knock over Lindsey, who had just finished processing the last piece of available evidence from the triple homicide. She scowled up at Danny from the floor. He reached down and pulled her to her feet. Just as she was about to start getting angry at him, Danny handed her the letter. Lindsey scanned it quickly, and froze.

"Oh my God."

"He's not here. I think he went to meet this guy."

"He did what?"

Danny grabbed her hand, and dragged her with him as he jogged along the corridor looking for either Flack or Stella. Suddenly, the CSI stopped short. "Cell-phone, you idiot!" Danny muttered to himself. He turned to see Lindsey was way ahead of him.

"Hey Flack, it's Lindsey. Mac got another letter." She paused, nodding at Flack's reply. "Baywater has asked to meet him today, at three pm, and we can't find Mac anywhere." Lindsey flinched, as Flack's voice burst through the speaker on her phone. Danny winced - he wouldn't like to be the boss when Flack caught up with him.

Lindsey snapped the phone shut. She gestured for Danny to follow her as they went back the way they had come. Scenarios rushed through their minds, each worse than the last. For his part, Danny felt like yelling at Mac a little too. He realised halfway there that they were on their way to the parking garage. Stella joined them in the elevator, flushed and out of breath.

It seemed like forever before they were piling into the car. God only knew where Sheldon was - he would be pissed about not being involved. Flack explained as he flung the steering wheel from side to side that he had sent a squad car ahead, and had mobilised back-up in case they needed it. They were to stay back unless absolutely necessary. As much as Flack wanted to get angry at Mac, he knew it was more than his life was worth to get the man's team in trouble.

* * *

Ronson's turned out to be a small, run-down bar in a bad part of Brooklyn. Mac sat in a booth, facing the door, drinking a beer. He didn't really want it, but it made him less conspicuous. Apart from him, there were only two other customers in the place. One was an old man, who simply gestured to the barman from time to time, and was given a variety of drinks. Mac had no idea how the barman knew what the guy wanted. The other customer was a younger man, of perhaps fifty. He too was completely drunk. They both looked harmless enough. Mac imagined they were probably part of the furniture. He stared down at his beer, aware that detailed observation of the place and the clients was not a good idea.

"Enjoying that?"

Mac's head shot up. Sitting in front of him was a man, about six feet tall, wearing a woollen hat and a long black coat. "Timothy Baywater."

A grin crossed the stranger's face. "Guilty."

Mac studied him for a moment, aware that the stranger was doing the same to him. He supposed that a lot of women - and men, for that matter - found Baywater attractive, but he had an icy air about him that was unsettling. The man certainly appeared to look after himself. Nevertheless, Mac knew he could take him on and win. He was beginning to think that he might have to. He signalled to the bartender, who cracked open another beer, and brought it over. He slammed it down in front of Baywater.

"So generous." the other man smirked.

Mac raised an eyebrow. "What is it that you want, Baywater?"

'Straight to the point. Fair enough." He swallowed a mouthful of beer. "I should start by explaining the relevance of the Flamingo Motel."

"I think I know."

Baywater's smirk widened into a grin as he realised that his counterpart had already worked out much of the story. He wondered what might be going through the CSI's mind.

"If you know, why are you here?"

Mac leant forward, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Stop sending me those letters."

"But I'm enjoying our little game."

"You said you were tired of it."

He waved his hand dismissively. "A device to get you here." He grinned again. "And it worked, didn't it?"

Mac leant back again, and took a long swig from his beer. "I think you're obsessed with the memory of a dead woman, Baywater."

He hadn't expected the reaction he got. Baywater lurched forward and grabbed Mac's shirt. The CSI grabbed Baywater's shirt, and looked him right in the eye. The bartender suddenly discovered something to do in the back room.

"Why are you doing this?" Mac hissed.

"Don't talk about her like that."

Mac locked away every part of himself that rebelled against the way he was taunting his opponent. "You're obsessed with her, aren't you? It's pathetic."

Suddenly Baywater let go. He focused his eyes somewhere above Mac's head. The CSI released him moments later. Mac tried not to wonder why the man was so obsessed with Claire. A clicking sound under the table got his attention. Baywater's smirk returned as he brought a gun up to rest on the table.

"Pathetic, huh?" he said softly. "Not so pathetic now."


	15. Chapter 15

DISCLAIMER - Still not mine.

A/N - Have been watching online episodes of CSI:NY in order to remind myself how each of the characters speak. Feel I may have gone a little off-track with certain things. Anyways, I hope it has helped. It totally changed the nature of this chapter! Read on to find out what is in store for Mac and the team…

* * *

Stella was the first one out of the car. She waited impatiently on the sidewalk for the others. A squad car was already there. The two officers were waiting for them, as requested. Flack took charge of the situation with ease. He directed Danny, Lindsey, and Stella to stay back. Meanwhile he and the two uniformed officers would go in and assess the situation. The CSIs reluctantly agreed - they didn't have his training, and anything they did wrong could put Mac at risk. The officers stayed back to start with, so that Flack could walk calmly into the bar and figure out what was going on. They had tried calling Mac, but his phone was turned off.

They all held their breath as Flack walked into Ronson's. He immediately saw why it had been chosen. It was dark, run-down, and inconspicuous. He'd have bet his new flat-screen TV things went on here that he didn't really want to know about right now. Casually, Flack went up to the bar. He leant against it, and glanced round the room. With a frown, he noted that Mac was not there. Neither, he thought suspiciously, was the bartender.

Just then, the latter came out of the back room, bottle of vodka in hand. He stopped short at the sight of Flack.

"What'll you have?"

Flack brought out a copy of Mac's I.D. photo. "Seen him?"

The bartender shook his head. "Never see anything in here. Ain't the place."

The detective leant across the bar. "Listen to me very carefully. This guy is a friend of mine. Now, have you seen him?"

Flack, who stood nearly a foot taller than the bartender, used that to his advantage. He loomed over the shorter man; the detective could be an intimidating presence when he chose.

"He was in here a minute ago. Didn't see him leave."

There had been no sign of Mac outside. Flack's eyes scanned the room, trying to figure out where he might have gone. His gaze fell on the old man slumped at one end of the bar. Flack strode over to him, hoping that he was awake. As it turned out, he was awake and semi-coherent. The detective only had to hold up the photo, and the old man was nodding.

"Went out back. Think another guy followed him." he said, in a croaky voice that had been destroyed by years of hard drinking.

Flack went to the door, and motioned for the officers to come in. They followed the detective to the back of the bar, with their guns drawn. He stopped dead in the doorway. The officers shuffled round him to see what was going on. They tensed up immediately. The CSI boss was facing a man with a gun - a man who matched the vague description of someone who had been harassing him.

"Detective, it's so good to finally meet you." Baywater said cheerfully. He was sweating, and his hands had started to shake.

"Mac, you OK?" he asked quietly.

Mac nodded. "I'm fine, Don." He was glaring at Baywater with a ferocious intensity. "This guy doesn't have the guts."

"Really?" Baywater laughed. "How sure are you about that? And you, Detective, how sure are you?"

"Come on, put the gun down and we'll talk." Flack said.

Baywater laughed. It was a hysterical, high-pitched noise. He was starting to lose control. If Flack was honest with himself, he wasn't at all sure that Mac was right. It was bad enough when an armed suspect was in control, but when they weren't, they became dangerously unpredictable. He raised his gun to shoulder height.

"Oh, Detective. I'm disappointed." Baywater said, shaking his head. "If you don't drop that gun, I will shoot Taylor."

"That's Detective Taylor to you." Flack snapped. He glanced at the two uniformed officers, who were trying to back away, unseen.

"Fine. Drop your gun, or I will shoot _Detective_ Taylor." he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "And tell those officers to keep still."

Even with the officers backing him up, Flack couldn't guarantee Mac's safety. He held up one hand and gently put his gun on the ground. He stepped away from it, hoping that Baywater might be distracted long enough for the uniformed officers to do something.

"Thank you. Now, I was having a discussion with Detective Taylor here. You understood my reference to the Flamingo, didn't you?" Baywater asked, a smirk on his face.

Mac refused to look in Don's direction. "I had an idea."

Flack swore under his breath. His friend and colleague had lied to them about the letters, about his plans for confronting this psychopath, and about this too. It was not something he would ever have expected Mac to do.

"I thought so. It was - ten years ago, I believe."

He shook his head. "Eleven."

"Ah. Yes, you're right. Eleven years ago."

Flack listened as Baywater span a tale. The rain that had been threatening all day started to fall heavily. It soaked through his suit jacket easily, and plastered his hair to his skin. The detective watched Mac's face as Baywater revealed to everyone the relevance of the Flamingo Motel.

Eleven years ago, the Taylors had an argument. It was bad enough that Claire had stormed out of their apartment with her bags packed. She was due to leave on a work assignment anyway, but had vowed not to come back. The assignment was in Boston. She had only just made the flight. Everything after it had been grounded due to bad weather. Once the plane was in the air, turbulence had forced it to land early, in Providence, Rhode Island. Claire had decided, on a whim, to stay there for two days rather than attempt to make it back to New York. In any case, the clients she had been meeting in New York had been forced to cancel - their flight had been cancelled due to poor weather further west.

The detective watched as Mac steeled himself against the story Baywater was telling. Claire had stayed at the Flamingo Motel. She had returned home two days after storming out, apologetic and eager to make it up with her husband. Baywater stopped there, and grinned,

"Would you like to tell the rest, Taylor?"

Mac looked up at him, eyes blazing. "You wouldn't leave her alone. She never admitted it, but you pestered her."

Baywater's good humour disappeared. "She loved me."

"She didn't. It was a mistake."

A desperate note had entered both their voices. Flack realised with horrible clarity what this was all about. He wanted to shut Baywater up, but the gun in the other man's hand was still pointed directly at Mac.

Baywater smiled vacantly. "You should try the Flamingo, Taylor."

"Shut up!" Flack yelled, as the wind began to howl.

"Claire certainly enjoyed herself."

The detective watched in horror as Mac lunged at Baywater. He lurched forward, with the two uniforms right behind him. Rain got into his eyes, but Flack ignored it. He grabbed Mac's shoulder just in time to stop him. It took all three of them to hold the CSI back.

Baywater frowned. "That, Taylor, was a mistake." He wiped the rain off his forehead, and smiled. Before anybody could react, he fired the gun.


	16. Chapter 16

DISCLAIMER - Not mine.

A/N - Second to last chapter here, and it's a short one. Sorry about that, but there wasn't really anything else I could add. It's been fun… although I'm slightly relieved that it's nearly finished! Enjoy.

* * *

Flack's heart pounded uncontrollably against his ribcage. There was a flash of absolute silence before sound rushed back into his ears. One of the officers called out to him. The detective felt a sudden stinging pain in his head. Letting go of a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, he touched the area gingerly. Blood covered Flack's fingers - the bullet had grazed him. _Just a graze_, Flack said to himself with relief, _no-one's dead_. Not even enough damage done to knock him out.

The shot didn't seem to have moved Baywater at all. His gun was still held out at shoulder height. He was smiling in a way that made the detective think Baywater's lawyers would be justified in seeking an insanity plea. It was then that Flack realised Mac wasn't struggling anymore. Fear gripped the detective for a moment, until he realised his friend was just standing still, frozen by the gun.

"Flack, you OK?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. The bullet just grazed me."

Baywater laughed. "Not so cocky now, are you Taylor?"

Mac bit back a retort. His need to confront this man had nearly gotten Flack's brains blown out.

"Now - back to the Flamingo."

"No." Mac snarled. "You're a fantasist, Baywater."

The officers tightened their grips on his shoulders., feeling the tension return to the older man's body.

"Am I?"

"Claire told me about you-" he said. Flack could see in his face what it was costing Mac to admit this. "-she didn't tell me your name, but she told me you wouldn't leave her alone."

"Really. Is that so?" Baywater said, in a bored tone of voice. "What did she tell you about Providence?"

Mac looked away. He was breathing heavily, trying to control his temper. The CSI didn't even realise he was straining at the hands of three men to get to Baywater. He tried to block it out as the man made lurid claims about the two days Claire had spent in Rhode Island. The truth was, he eventually spat back, that Claire had met Baywater in the motel bar. She had gotten drunk with him, each complaining about their respective partners, and making up outlandish stories about other people in the bar. At the end of the night, she had allowed Baywater to walk her back to her room.

"I know-" Mac took a deep breath. "-I know she kissed you. She told me about it."

It was then that Flack knew why Mac had kept his knowledge of the Flamingo Motel to himself. He couldn't imagine how much it had hurt to find out about that. The detective added it to the growing list of things he had to talk to his friend about one day.

"She did more than that." Baywater said desperately.

Mac shook his head. "No, she didn't. She kissed you, and regretted it. You couldn't let it go. Phone-calls, letters, faxes. I wanted to know who you were, but Claire wouldn't tell me. I think she thought I might get myself into trouble."

Flack couldn't help muttering under his breath. "Wonder where she got that idea?"

Stella was pacing up and down the sidewalk outside the bar when the gunshot went off. A thousand nightmare scenarios appeared in her head as she rushed to the door. Danny and Lindsey right behind her, waiting for instruction. Stella peered through the dirty windows, and shook her head. They were not in Ronson's.

"Shot came from out back." Danny said quietly.

Stella nodded. "You and Lindsey go round that way. I'll go through here." She caught Danny's arm just as he was leaving. "Call for back-up. And be careful."

The CSIs parted ways. Stella took a deep breath and headed through the bar. Meanwhile, Danny and Lindsey made their way round back. There was no alleyway, but they quickly discovered that the area immediately behind the bar was being used as a parking lot. Danny motioned for Lindsey to follow him as they crept closer. The two CSIs hid behind a battered old Ford. He peered over the bonnet.

"What do you see?" Lindsey whispered.

Danny swore under his breath. "There's a guy with a gun. Flack and the other cops are with Mac - he looks mad."

"Is it Baywater?"

"Guy's about six foot, and he's holding a gun on Mac, that'd be my guess." Danny snapped.

Stella emerged from the doorway with her gun drawn. She inched forward. Her back-up - Danny and Lindsey - appeared from nowhere, looking as determined as she'd ever seen them. The rain was starting to let up, but by now they were all soaked to the bone. Baywater's smirk faded as he realised he no longer had the upper hand.

"Put the gun down." Danny barked angrily.

The gun-man rallied himself. "Not a chance, CSI boy."

The younger man tipped his head to the side. "CSI boy?"

Lindsey winced. She stored it away in her mind for later, when she would be able to tease him about it.

"I was just having a nice conversation with Taylor here."

The three newcomers each risked a glance at their boss. He looked furious. Danny almost wished Flack and the others would let him go. If Baywater hadn't been armed, he would not have stood a chance. The CSI kicked aside a rusted piece of metal as he advanced closer.

"Is that right?" he said.

"Stop where you are." Baywater warned them.

He checked with Stella. She nodded reluctantly. If this man was as unstable as he looked and sounded, there was no telling what he might do. Baywater's smirk returned. He took one step closer to Mac, and carefully aimed right between his eyes. The CSIs steadied themselves. Four shots rang out in the tiny parking lot.


	17. Chapter 17

-DISCLAIMER - Not mine.

A/N - I can't believe it's over... Skims over a few bits, but this chapter is the end of my first story as Write Here2. There is a veyr small, remote possiblity I may later rewrite this chapter, but I wanted to finish this in one go. Thanks so much for all your support. Feel free to keep reviewing - after all, every review, whether it's on an old or new chapter/story is useful in developing your skills as a writer. See you at my next story… You've been a great audience.

* * *

Mac stared down the barrel of the gun and imagined he could see the bullet as it flew through the air at him. The sound of the shots didn't register in his mind. Somewhere, the CSI was aware that Flack and the uniformed cops were trying to push him to the ground. Three bullets impacted Baywater's body in quick succession. As Mac's tormentor fell first to his knees, and then the ground, everything sped up. He found himself lying on the ground in a jumble of arms and legs. Blinking furiously, Mac made out Stella's face hovering over him seconds later. Danny and Lindsey joined her. He stared at them, trying to figure out why they weren't making any noise. Darkness crept across his vision, and Mac's eyelids slid shut. 

"Mac, are you OK?" Stella called frantically.

The two uniformed cops disentangled themselves, and stood up. Flack was next, helped to his feet by Danny. He leant on the other man, suddenly very aware of the pounding headache he had.

"He OK?" the detective asked.

Stella knelt down. She thought at first that the blood on Mac's face was from the gash on Flack's head. It was then that she noticed the glaringly obvious hole in her friend's shoulder. Stella tore off her jacket, and pressed it to the wound. The others had already sprung into action. One of the officers was calling for ambulances, whilst the other was taking a look at Baywater.

"How's he doing?"

Stella looked up, and smiled weakly. "He'll be OK. He'll-" she stopped, reminding herself to be strong. "Mac will be fine." she insisted.

Danny looked at his boss's pale face, and the blood staining Stella's jacket. He returned the smile. "Yeah - he'll be fine. It's Mac." he said, as if that explained it all.

Lindsey stood in the background, frantically trying to phone Sheldon and the others at the lab. She got through eventually, and rushed through a digest version of what had happened. She listened carefully as he explained what they should be doing for Mac to keep him stable till the paramedics got there.

"Keep his feet elevated." she called out.

Danny took off his own jacket, and tucked it carefully under his boss's feet. He supposed it had something to do with shock. He glanced over Mac's prone body at Stella. She looked frantic. He swallowed back his own panic, and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"He's gonna be fine."

* * *

They waited anxiously in a small family room just a short distance from the main emergency room. The doctors had been good enough to find them a space. Flack had been talked into having his head wound examined by Lindsey, and had joined them in waiting for news just a couple of hours after they had arrived. One of the officers at the scene had dropped them off whilst his partner secured the area and waited for the cavalry. He had driven back immediately, but his help wouldn't be forgotten. Stella and the team had vowed to buy the man a drink as soon as possible. 

It seemed like forever, but in reality, it was just under six hours later when a young doctor stepped into the room. He smiled genially at everyone, and took a seat. The young man introduced himself as Doctor Nolan.

Stella leant forward. "How is he?"

"He's doing just fine. Detective Taylor was incredibly lucky. The bullet passed through his shoulder with minimal damage to muscle and bone." the doctor said, smiling cheerfully. "His wound is just being stitched and dressed. You can see him in about an hour."

"You're sure he's gonna be OK?" Danny asked anxiously.

Nolan nodded. "He's not completely out of the woods, but -" he shrugged. "I'd be very surprised if he didn't make a full recovery."

The team breathed a collective sigh of relief. Flack lay back down on his sofa, smiling as if all his Christmases had come at once.

* * *

"Hey Mac." Stella said softly. 

He cracked open one eye. Everything was swimming, and he had the strangest feeling that he was floating above his bed. Mac tried to move to make himself more comfortable, but all his limbs were heavy as lead. He could hear familiar voices, but the cotton wool in his head wouldn't let him.

"How you feeling, boss?"

The voice was - Mac tried to think of the name, but it wouldn't come to him. A face swam into his line of vision. _Danny! _his mind announced. _That's Danny_. Mac lifted his arm up with enormous effort and pulled his oxygen mask down. Stella tried to replace it, but he gripped the thick plastic tightly.

"'Lo." he croaked.

Two more faces appeared. Their names came to him much more readily - Hawkes and Lindsey. They both looked so pleased. _Why do they look so happy? _his mind asked, in confusion. Mac blinked .A fifth face made an appearance. This one was no challenge at all. He remembered Flack stopping him from attacking Baywater. Mac's eyes threatened to fill with water. He blinked the tears away. _Just the drugs_, his inner voice reassured him, _it's the drugs that make everything so fuzzy and so vivid_.

"You - - OK?" Flack asked.

Mac squinted at the detective, hazily trying to figure out what he had actually said. "M'fine."

The other occupants of the room couldn't quite hold back smiles. He was high as a kite on whatever the doctors had given him, but Mac was going to be OK. Flack leant back in his chair, and allowed himself to rest properly for the first time in weeks. He had sworn the two uniforms to absolute secrecy over what Mac had revealed about Claire. As far as anyone else was concerned, it was all in Baywater's head.

Meanwhile, Danny, Hawkes and Lindsey began spinning tall tales about what had been going on in the lab. in the short time Mac had been suspended. They knew he wasn't listening - it was just their way of winding down. Stella, for her part, held her friend's hand tightly, and spoke to him so quietly no-one else could hear what she was saying. He stared back at her, only half-understanding, but safe in the knowledge that Flack would not share his secret and Stella would make sure he got back to work in good health. Mac's eyelids drooped, until they were almost closed. All five of his friends and colleagues crowded round as he fell into a calm, restful sleep.

FIN.


End file.
